812 
C23G«1 


CENTRAL  CIRCULATION  AND  BOOKSTACKS 

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Successful  Rural  Plays 

A  Strong  List  From  Which  to  Select  Your 
Next  Play 

FARM  FOLKS.  A  Rural  Play  in  Four  Acts,  by  Arthur 
Lewis  Tubes.  For  five  male  and  six  female  characters.  Time 
of  playing,  two  hours  and  a  half.  One  simple  exterior,  two 
easy  interior  scenes.  Costumes,  modern.  Flora  Goodwin,  a 
farmer's  daughter,  is  engaged  to  Philip  Burleigh,  a  young  New 
Yorker  Philip's  mother  wants  him  to  marry  a  society  woman, 
and  by  falsehoods  makes  Flora  believe  Philip  does  not  love  her. 
Dave  Weston,  who  wants  Flora  himself,  helps  the  deception  by 
intercepting  a  letter  from  Philip  to  Flora.  She  agrees  to  marry 
Dave  but  on  the  eve  of  their  marriage  Dave  confesses,  Philip 
learns  the  truth,  and  he  and  Flora  are  reunited.  It  is  a  simple 
plot,  but  full  of  speeches  and  situations  that  sway  an  audience 
alternately  to  tears  and  to  laughter.    Price,  25  cents. 

HOME  TIES.  A  Rural  Play  in  Four  Acts,  by  Arthur 
Lewis  Tubes.  Characters,  four  male,  five  female.  Plays  two 
hours  and  a  half.  Scene,  a  simple  interior— same  for  all  four 
acts.  Costumes,  modern.  One  of  the  strongest  plays  Mr.  iubbs 
has  written.  Martin  Winn's  wife  left  him  when  his  daughter 
Ruth  was  a  baby.  Harold  Vincent,  the  nephew  and  adopted  son 
of  the  man  who  has  wronged  Martin,  makes  love  to  Ruth  Wmn. 
She  is  also  loved  by  Len  Everett,  a  prosperous  young  farmer. 
When  Martin  discovers  who  Harold  is,  he  orders  him  to  leave 
Ruth.  Harold,  who  does  not  love  sincerely,  yields.  Ruth  dis- 
covers she  loves  Len,  but  thinks  she  has  lost  him  also.  ihen 
he  comes  back,  and  Ruth  finds  her  happiness.    Price  25  cents. 

THE  OLD  NEW  HAMPSHIRE  HOME.  A  New 
England  Drama  in  Three  Acts,  by  Frank  Dumont  For  seven 
males  and  four  females.  Time,  two  hours  and  a  half.  Costumes, 
modern.  A  play  with  a  strong  heart  interest  and  pathos  yet  rich 
in  humor.  Easy  to  act  and  very  effective.  A  rural  drama  ot 
the  "Old  Homstead"  and  "Way  Down  East'  type.  Two  ex- 
terior scenes,  one  interior,  all  easy  to  set.  Full  /t^'^^ng  sit- 
uations and  delightfully  humorous  passages  The  kind  ot  a  play 
everybody  understands  and  likes.    Price,  25  cents. 

THE  OLD  DAIRY  HOMESTEAD.  A  Rural  Coniedy 
in  Three  Acts,  by  Frank  Dumont.  For  five  males  and  four 
females.  Time,  two  hours.  Rural  costumes.  Scenes  rural  ex- 
terior and  interior.  An  adventurer  obtains  a  large  sum  of  money 
from  a  farm  house  through  the  intimidation  of  the  farmers 
niece,  whose  husband  he  claims  to  be.  Her  escapes  from  the 
wiles  of  the  villain  and  his  female  accomplice  are  both  starting 
and  novel.    Price,  15  cents. 

A  WHITE  MOUNTAIN  BOY.  A  Strong  Melodrama  in 
Five  Acts,  by  Charles  Townsend.  For  seven  males  and  tour 
females,  and  three  supers.  Time,  two  hours  and  twenty  minutes. 
One  exterior,  three  interiors.  Costumes  easy  l^'f/^X?;.? 
country  lad,  twice  saves  the  life  of  a  f  "^^^^  ^  ^/^"S^;^^^'^' .^^^^^^^^ 
results  in  their  betrothal.  A  scoundrelly  clerk  has  the  banker 
in  his  power,  but  the  White  Mountain  boy  finds  a  way  to  cluck- 
mate  his  schemes,  saves  the  banker,  and  wins  the  girJ.  -trice 
15  cents. 

THE  PENN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 


The  Dress  Rehearsal 


A  Parlor  Comedy  in  One  Act 


By 

Mrs.  S.  F.  Carroll 

and 

Elizabeth  C.  Miller 


PHILADELPHIA 

THE  PENN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
1918 


Copyright  1906  by  the  Penn  Publishing  Company? 


riie  Dress  lit'hearsal 


^^^^^ 


The  Dress  Rehearsal 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 

The  Telephone,  .  which  is  responsible  for  all  the  trouble, 
Nancy  Blythe,  .  .  a  double-barreled  heroine, 
Agnes  Middleman,  ....  peacemaker. 
Miss  Cavendish,  .  otherwise  known  as  Aunt  So- 
j  phronia,^^    Fritn^  proper  and  precise, 

ip  Lucy,  -  a  colored  mammy  of  the  old  fashioned  type, 
^  Tom  Travers,  -  -  for  whom  a  little  listening  is  a 
j'j^  dangerous  thing, 

Dick  Dunder,  -  who  rushes  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread 
V  Harold  Huntington,    -    otherwise    Cousin  Nat,^^  who 

never  appears. 

d   - — _ — — 

COSTUMES,  MODERN 


tP 


Time  in  Representation  : — One  Hour. 


3 


The  Dress  Rehearsal 


SCENE. ^ — Library  at  Fair  Oaks,  the  Blythe  country  hone. 
Mission  furniture^  busts  and  engravings  of  fa77ious  au- 
thors. Fireplacey  l.  corner,  back.  Telephone,  back  c. 
Doors,  R.  and  L.,  near  front.  The  hour  is  J. 00  P.  M. 
of  a  January  day.  The  curtain  rises  showing  stage  va- 
cant. Telephone  bell  rings.  Enter  Miss  Cavendish,  l., 
carrying  a  piece  of  embroidery  on  hoops.  Goes  to  tele- 
phone, takes  receiver  from  hook. 

Miss  Cavendish.    Well?  Yes,  this  is  the  Blythe 

residence  Yes  No;   but   I   am  Miss  Blythe's 

aunt,  and  I  will  tell  her  What?  Oh,  you  are  the 

scenery  people?  Well  {severely')  I  don't  know  a  thing  about 
it.  (Enter  Nancv,  walking  slowly,  reading  from  a  book.) 
1  shall  have  to  call  my  niece. 

Nancy.  Who  is  it,  Aunt  Sophronia,  Brush  and  Bramble  ? 
Well,  it's  about  time.    {Takes  receiver.    Miss  Cavendish 

sits  near  table  and  sews.)    Hello  !  Mr.  Brush  ?   

Yes,  indeed.  I've  been  expecting  your  wagon  all  afternoon. 
Can  you  send  out  those  rocks  right  away  ?  You  see  we 
have  our  dress  rehearsal  this  evening,  and  I  was  so  afraid 

 What?  ...The  trees?    Yes,  they're  fine;  in  fact 

they're  just  what  we  wanted.    And  you'll  be  sure  to  send 

out  those  rocks  right  away?  Very  well ;  thank  you, 

Mr.  Brush   Yes,  that'll  be  all  right  Good-bye. 

{Hangs  up  receiver,  and  turns,  clasping  her  hands.)  Oh, 
Aunt  Sophronia,  it's  such  fun  !  don't  you  wish  you  were 
in  it  ? 

Miss  Cavendish.  No,  indeed,  nothing  could  induce  me 
to  make  a  fool  of  myself.  Private  theatricals  indeed  !  I 
don't  see  where  the  pleasure  comes  in. 

Nancy  {laughing).    Why,  it's  all  pleasure. 

(  Walks  over  and  leans  on  her  aunfs  chair.) 
Miss  Cavendish.    All  I've  seen  so  far  has  been  a  lot  of 

5 


6 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


work  for  everybody  in  the  house;  the  telephone  ringing 
every  five  minutes ;  the  servants  rushing  wildly  about ;  the 
whole  third  story  in  a  state  of  chaos ;  and  you  yourself  so 
preoccupied  that  when  I  ask  you  the  time  of  day,  or  remark 
that   it   looks   like   rain    you   absent-mindedly   answer : 

Avaunt,  villain  !  "  {tnakes  dramatic  gesture),  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort. 

Nancy  {laughing).    But,  Aunt  Sophronia,  nobody  says 

Avaunt  villain  1"  in  our  play. 

{Imitates  her  aunf  s  gesture?) 

Miss  Cavendish  {waving  her  aside).  Well,  there  are 
many  things  equally  foolish. 

Nancy  {coming  roimd  in  front  of  her  aunt).  Nothing  of 
the  sort.  {Hurriedly  tur?is  a  few  pages  in  her  book.) 
Listen  to  this  !  The  heroine — that's  I — is  telling  the  hero 
• — that's  Cousin  Nat — that  she  can't  marry  him.  She  says: 
{reads  dra77tatically)  *<Alas,  dear  Harold!  The  time  has 
come  when  our  two  knitted  souls  must  rend  their  bonds  and 
part  forever.  Honor  points  a  path  for  each  which  the  other 
may  not  tread." 

Miss  Cavendish  {contemptuously).    Nonsense  I 

Nancy  {airily).  Wait  till  you  hear  me  say  it  to-morrow 
night. 

(^Moves  toward  door,  consulting  book  and  repeating  in  an 
undertone :    * '  Alas^  dear  Harold  !  etc. ' ') 

Miss  Cavendish  {suggestively).  Wait  till  Tom  hears  you 
to-morrow  night. 

Nancy  {pauses  in  doorway  and  laughs  over  her  shoul- 
der).   Oh,  he  won't  care. 

{Exit  Nancy,  l.  Miss  Cavendish  left  alone,  continues  to 
embroider.  Telephone  bell  rings.  Miss  Cavendish 
sighs,  lays  her  embroidery  on  table  and  resignedly  goes  to 
telephone  and  takes  down  receiver.) 

Miss  Cavendish.    Well?  Yes,  this  is  Fair  Oaks. 

Whom  do  you  wish  to  speak  to?  Oh,  is  this  you,  Mr. 

Dunder  !    I  will  call  Nancy  What?  Oh,  your 

automobile  !  Ikoken     down  !   How    dreadful  ! 

Nancy  will  be  so  distressed.  She  luis  been  exj)ccting  you 
for  some  time,  I  believe  ;  isn't  it  nearly  the  hour  for  your 
dress  rehearsal?  Who  did  you  say  is  with  you,  Mr, 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


7 


Dunder  ?   A  scene-shifter  and  a  stage  carpenter  and 

 Oh,  is  Agnes   there  too!  Well,  this  is  too 

bad  ""isn't  there  something  we  can  do  ?— Is  your  motor 
broken  past  repair?  Yes,  Nancy's  chauffeur  is  some- 
where about  the  place,  I'm  sure  Send  him  with  what? 

 ^  fire  plug  !  What?  Oh,  a  spark  plug. 

Anything  else?  Very  well.    I'll  have  him  sent  down 

at  once.    Where  did  you  say  you  are?  Opposite  the 

Rankin  farm  ?  Very  well  ....Yes,  you  shall  have  assist- 
ance right  away  Not  at  all  Good-bye.  (^^gf 

up  receiver.  Turns  azvay.  In  exasperated  tones.)  Ha  t 
the  theatrical  troupe  stranded  down  the  road  !  What  will 
happen  next,  I  wonder. 

{Exit,  R.    Enter  Nancy,  l.,  studying  from  book,  making 
gestures  as  she  recites?) 

Nancy.  How  fair  shines  the  pale  moon  to-night.  How 
soft,  serene  th'  illumined  sphere  glides  over  yonder  hilltop ! 
4h,  a  cloud  obscures  the  radiant  disk  !— even  so  a  mist  of 
jrouble  darkens  my  sad  heart.  Oh,  for  owt— {telephone  bell 
rings.  Nancy  goes  abstractedly  to  'phone,  takes  up  re- 
ceiver, and  continues  speaking  into  telephone)  gloom^dispell- 

ing  glance  from  those  dear  eyes  !    {Starts,)    What  ?   

Oh,  beg  pardon.    Hello!  ,,.Yes,  this  is  Nancy   

Cousin  Nat?  Oh,  my,  yes!  isn't  it  a  good  thing  it 

happened  to  be  you  ;  any  one  else  would  have  thought  cen- 
tral  had   connected  him  with  the  insane  asylum  

Yes,  Cousin  Nat   Oh,  I  forgot— Harold,  I  mean.  I 

must  get  used  to  caUing  you  Harold,  mustn't  I  ?  

What?  You  can't  come!    Oh,  but  you  must,  Nat; 

it's  the  dress  rehearsal,  and  that  important  scene  of  ours 

didn't  go  at  all  well  last  time— you  know  it  didn't  

Oh,  no  !  we  must  have  the  play  to-morrow.  You  know 
Tom  gets  back  to-morrow  night,  and  I've  set  my  heart  on 

surprising   him  with  it  {Laughs.)    Oh,  no;  Tom 

won't  be  jealous  of  you   Well,  I  don't  know;  maybe 

if  your  name  were  really  Harold  he  might — on  account  of 

Harold  McGrath,  you  know  Yes,  Tom  has  always 

been  a  little  sensitive  in  that  quarter  Well,  all  right ; 

but  I  think  it's  a  shame  you  can't  come.  And,  Nat,  don't 
you  think  we'd  better  rehearse  that  last  scene  just  once  more  ? 

 {Laughs.)    Over  the  telephone  !    All  right;  I'll  do 

it.'.*  No,  I'm  not  letter-perfect  either.    I'll  tell  you— 


8 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


you  call  up  again  in  about  half  an  hour,  and  in  the  mean- 
time ril  study  up,  and  you  must,  too  Well,  then, 

you'll  telephone  later  on  ?  All  right,  Nat.  Good-bye! 

{Hangs  up  receiver.  Exit,  l.,  reading:  Alas,  dear 
Harold  !  etc''  Stage  vacant  for  a  moment.  Telephone 
rings.    Enter  Lucy,  r.,  bustling  and  important.^ 

Lucy.  Huh,  dis  bell  am  faihly  gettin'  hoarse — it  ring  so 
often.    Des  keep  somebody   a-scramblin'   all  de  time. 

(Takes  receiver,')    Hullo,  suh  !  Yas,  suh,  dis  am 

Mistah    Blytheses   res'dunce  Yas,  suh,  Wby, 

how'd  you  know  'twuz  me  !  Oh,  lawsy,  dat  you,  Mis- 
tah Tawm?  Yas,  suh,  we-all's  well^  how's  youse'f? 

 No,  suh.  Miss  Nancy  didn'  'low  you'd  be  home 

till  to-morrer  night — huh'd  huh  tell  Miss  Sophie  so.  Jest 
wait  a  minute,  I'll  fetch  Miss  Nancy  How  dat,  Mis- 
tah Tawm?    You   don'  want   Miss  Nancy?  .^Law, 

honey,  you  don'  mean  fur  to  say  it's  me  you  wants  to  talk 

to !   O  you  don'  want  anybody  to  know  you'se  got 

home?    All  right,  suh;  I  won't  tell  'em  ef  you  say  so 

 Oh,  of  co'se — you  want  to  'sprise  'em.    All  right, 

honey;  I  won' say  a  wo' d :  I'll  des  be  on  de  lookout  an' 
sneak  you  in  by  de  side  do'.  Law,  suh,  my  baby  sholy  am 
gwine  ter  be  glad  to  see  you  agin ;  she  done  miss  you  a 

whole  lot  Oh,  no,  suh  !    I  won'  furgit.    I'll  be  on 

han'  'Bout   twenty   minutes?  Yas,   suh.  All 

right,  Mistah  Tav^m  Good-bye.    {Hangs  up  receiver  ; 

walks  toward  door  talking  to  herself,)  Wondah  when 
Miss  Nancy  an'  Mistah  Tawm  gwine  git  married.  Mighty 
han'some  couple  dey'll  make.  (  Telephone  bell  rings,  Lucy 
turns  back.)  Fob  de  lan's  sakes !  Wha'd  I  tell  you? 
You  an'  me's  gwine  to  have  trouble  yit,  Mistah  Telephome, 
ef  you   don'    keep   yo'  mouf  shet  !    {Takes  receiver.) 

Hullo!  Yas,  suh  Wha'd  you  say?  Miss 

Blytheses  wig?    Oh,  yas,  suh  No,  suh,  it  ain'  come 

yit.  Miss  Nancy's  gittin'  mighty  anxious  'bout  dat  wig. 
She  say  she  gwine  call  you-all  up  an'  fin'  out  wha'  de 

trouble  Oh,  den  I  guess  it'll  be  along  all  right.  Ef 

you  sent  it  by  de  train  it  could n'  git  shere  yit  noway  

All  right,  suh.  Good-bye.  {Exit,  r.,  soliloquizing.) 
Miss  Sophie  mighty  neah  right  when  she  fuss  'bout  de 
trouble  (kse  shere  th'nticles  makes.  But,  lawsy,  ef  de 
young  folks  enjoy  dcyselves,  I  ain'  complainin'. 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL  q 

[Enter  Nancy,  l.,  reciting  fro7n  book?} 

Nancy.  Oh,  welcome  twilight,  swiftly  come,  and  with 
your  darksome  shadows  hide  the  falsely  smiling  face  of  day 
from  mine  afflicted  eyes  !  {Strikes  a  tragic  attitude,^ 
Oh,  stars  of  night,  look  softly  down  from  out  your  azure 

deeps  and  shine  upon   {Enter  Dick  Dunder  and 

Agnes  Middleman  in  elaborate  motoring  costume y  their 
arms  full  of  various-sized  bundles,  Nancy  looks  up, 
pauses y  then  strikes  another  attitude.  Dramatically.^ 
Aha,  they  come,  perfidious  pair  !    (Stifles  a  giggle,) 

Dick  [suddenly  dropping  all  the  bundles  and  stretching 
an  impassioned  arm  toward  Nancy).  Odds  blood  !  'Tis 
Miriam!  [Turns  to  Agnes.)  She  is  as  basely  false  as 
she  is  divinely  fair,  and  

Agnes  [interrupting,  in  soft  plaintive  tones).  Oh,  that 
I  should  have  lived  to  see  this  day  ! 

[All  then  burst  out  laughing,  and  Nancy  embraces  Agnes.) 

Nancy.  I  thought  you  would  never  come  !  Did  Jenkins 
get  to  you  with  the  spark-plug  ? — but  of  course  he  did  or 
you  wouldn't  be  here  now.  And  [pointing  to  bundles  on 
floor)  you  have  brought  all  your  things  for  the  dress  re- 
hearsal,  haven't  you  ?    How  splendid  ! 

Agnes  [catching  sight  of  scattered  bundles).  Oh,  Dick, 
see  what  you  have  done — my  beautiful  court  costume  strewn 
all  over  the  floor  ! 

(Dick  turns  hurriedly  and  puts  his  foot  on  bundle.) 

Nancy  and  Agnes  [excitedly).    Don't  step  on  it ! 

Dick  [resuming  tragic  manner,  dropping  on  knees  and 
gathering  up  bundles).    Alas  !  what  have  I  done? 

Nancy  [ivaving  away  Dick's  remark).  Do  you  know 
your  parts  ?    [Helps  Agnes  to  take  off  her  cloak.) 

Agnes.    Why — why,  I  think  so. 

Dick  [dropping  everything  he  has  picked  up  and  speaking 
very  earnestly).  Oh,  surely  !  er — that  is — we  almost  do. 
You  see  Agnes  says  it  took  so  much  time  to  make  her  cos- 
tume, and  I  had  to  run  all  over  town  to  find  this.  (  Takes 
large  black  moustache  from  pocket  and  affixes  it  to  lip,  still 
kneeling  among  bundles.  Both  girls  laugh,)  And  so,  of 
course,  there  wasn't  much  time  left  to  polish  up  on  our 
parts.  [Resumes  work  among  bundles.)  But  we  know 
them  pretty  well;  don't  we,  Agnes?    [Suddenly  stretches 


10 


THE  DRESS  REHEARbAL 


forth  arms,  dropping  bundles,  and  recites  with  fervor. ) 
Oh,  star  of  my  existence,  shed  one  kindly  ray  upon  my 
darkened  heart ! 

Agnes  {decidedly').  Pick  up  those  bundles,  Dicky,  and 
don't  be  a  goose.  We'll  hear  you  rehearse  later  on.  {Titrns 
to  Nancy.)  I  do  wish  we  were  better  prepared  for  the  final 
rehearsal ;  there  are  some  of  my  lines  that  I  am  still  rather 
doubtful  about. 

Nancy  (laughiiig).  I'll  venture  both  of  you  know  the 
love  scenes  down  to  the  last  w^ord.  I  told  Cousin  Nat  it 
was  a  mistake  to  give  an  engaged  couple  the  love  parts  you  two 
have  in  this,  but  he  said  it  was  nonsense,  it  stood  to  reason 
you  could  act  all  the  more  realistically.  Now,  Nat  and  I, 
most  prosaic  of  cousins,  have  our  love-scenes  dowai  so  fine 
that  when  I  say  {clasping  her  hands  a7id  raising  her  eyes 
ceiling-ward),  <^  Alas,  dear  Harold!  The  time  has  come 
when  our  two  knitted  souls  must  rend  their  bonds  and  p^t 
forever,"  the  audience  will  be  able  to  hear  my  heart  break- 
ing quite  distinctly,  1  know. 

Agnes  {slyly).  But  if  it  were  Tom  instead  of  your 
<cousin  who  had  the  part  of  Harold  

Nancy  (with  elaborate  carelessness).  Oh,  I  shouldn't 
be  able  to  do  it  half  so  well ! 

(Dick,  who  has  been  alternately  liste^iing  and  pickifig  up 
bmidles,  now  rises,  his  arms  full  of  the^n,  the  C07itents 
overflowing  and  trailing  over  his  shoulders.) 

Dick.    Where  do  you  girls  want  this  stuff? 

Nancy.  Yours  in  the  guest-room,  Dick.  Agnes  is  to 
dress  in  my  room,  and  she  had  better  do  it  right  away  {con- 
sults watch)  ;  there's  only  half  an  hour  before  the  rehearsal. 
(Agnes  and  Dick  move  toward  door,  r.,  Dick  dropping 
bundles  and  Agnes  following  him,  picki?ig  them  up.) 
And  if  you  get  any  time,  study  your  parts.  Meanwhile,  I 
will  study  mine.  {Exeunt  Dick  and  Agnes,  r.  Nancy 
resumes  her  book,  lualking  up  and  down  and  gesturing  as 
she  studies.)  Oh,  treacherous  unkind  Fate,  must  I  be  thus 
pursued,  by  night,  by  day,  in  sleeping  and  in  waking  hours, 
by  the  horror  of  this  hopeless  love?  Ah,  cruel  Destiny! 
(Telephone  rings.  She  lualks  to7vard  telephone  still  read- 
ing.)   Tet  welcome  Death  combine  witli  thee  to  overthrow 

the  n-.igcdy  of  my  existence,  and  say  to  all  the  world   

(flakes  up  receiver,)    Hello  !  Oh,  Nat  I— or  Harold, 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


If 


rather  Yes;  did  you  call  up  to  rehearse?  Well, 

I'm  glad  of  that;  I've  been  studymg  diligently,  but  it  is  so 

hard  to  remember  the  cues  unless  we  rehearse  together  

Yes,  I'm  so  sorry  you  can't  be  here  for  the  dress  rehearsal. 

Isn't  your  cold  any  better  ?  It's  really  too  bad.  Tom 

gets  home  to-morrow  in  time  for  the  performance  and  of 

course  I  want  to  shine  Why  ?    Well,  you  see,  he  has 

always  scoffed  at  amateur  theatricals  and  called  them  stupid, 
but  1  told  him  I  was  sure  I  could  act  a  little  and  some 
day  I  would  show  him,  so  if  we  could  have  our  play  good 
— really  splendid,  you  know,  why,  why    (^Indig- 
nantly.^   No,  I  wouldn't  say  I  told  you  so  !...o  Oh,  I'm 

not  huffy.    A  girl  doesn't  pay  much  attention  to  what  a  mere 

cousin  says,  you  know,  my  dear  Nat  Well,  yes;  I 

suppose  we  had  better  rehearse  that  last  scene,  only  it  seems 

awfully  silly  to  do  it  over  the  telephone  No,  you  begin 

first.    Don't  you  know  {consults  book),  you  say:  **0h, 

beloved  !  one  last  embrace  before  I  die."  Yes,  that's 

right.    Go  on  Ah,  say  not  so,  dear  heart  of  mine  ! 

 But  Harold,  cannot  we  force  Fate — cause  gentle 

Nature  to  interfere  in  our  behalf,  and  by  the  removal  of 
tiose  who  stand  between  us,  bind  our  souls  in  closest  union 
forever  and  forever  !  Miss  Cavendish,  r.  ,  who  listens 

with  eyes  and  mouth  opened  wide  in  astonishment.)  Oh, 
dear  one,  forget  the  wicked  words  I've  spoke, — 'tis  Love, 
gentle  Love,  drives  these  dreadful  thoughts  to  my  fevered 
brain.  {Exit  Miss  Cavendish,  l.,  enlightened  but  scorn- 
ful.) Ah,  how  sweetly  sounds  thy  voice,  dear  Harold, 
when  naught  but  love  words  it  breathes  into  mine  ear  ! 
{Enter  Agnes,  r.,  powdered  wig  in  one  hand,  book  in 
other.)  Tell  me  again,  my  King,  the  words  my  enchanted 
soul  so  pines  to  hear  !  {Exit  Agnes,  l.,  laughing.)  Oh, 
Prince  of  men,  is  it  only  Death  that  will  assuage  our  hurts, 
and  by  a  bloody  separation  here,  unite  us  in  the  great 
beyond?  {Enter  Lucy,  r.,  carrying  artificial  tree.)  My 
sweet,  was  ever  gentle  Love  subjected  to  such  trials  ! 

Lucy  {scandalized  ).    Foh  de  Lo'd's  sake  ! 

Nancy.  You  say  aright,  beloved !  there's  naught  but 
self-sought  death  remains  for  us.  {Exit  Lucy,  r.,  pre- 
cipitately.)   Death,  the  soundest,  dreamless  sleep  of  Life  ! 

{Enter  Dick,  r.,  mumbling.  Nancy  continues  reciting 
lines  from  play  into  telephone,  and  Dick  mutters  his  part 
at  the  same  time,  striding  up  and  down  the  room. 


u,  OF  lu.  ua 


12 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


Dick.  Curse  him  !  An  hundred  thousand  evils  pursue 
him,  for  he  has  stolen  from  me  that  most  priceless  gift  of 
Life,  the  love  of  woman.  Come,  dire  disaster,  horrid  Death, 
and  wipe  his  baneful  presence  from  the  suffering  earth  ! 

Nancy  {simultaneously,^  Ah,  loved  one,  would  that  we 
might  tether  Time,  and  in  the  arrested  hours  live  out  the 
years  of  Life  in  the  brief  moment  of  our  making  !  {Exit 
Dick,  r.)  But  such  ecstatic  rhapsodies  are  but  the  idle 
words  of  a  love-diseased  brain.  This  tethering  of  Time  to 
gain  a  glorious  moment  for  our  ill-fated  love  may  not  be  ! 
{Enter  Tom,  r.,  in  traveling  coat,  suit- case,  umbrella  and 
hat  in  hands.  He  stands  in  the  doorway  and  listens  with 
lowering  brows,  while  Nancy  continues  at  telephoiie  un- 
conscious of  his  presence.  Agnes  peeps  in,  l.,  unnoticed 
by  either.  She  realizes  the  situation,  stands  i?t  agitated  in- 
decision for  a  moment,  then  disappears.  Nancy  continues 
uninterruptedly  at  telephone.^  You  are  right,  my  love. 
Alas,  dear  Harold  !  The  time  has  come  when  our  two 
knitted  souls  must  rend  their  bonds  and  part  forever. 
Honor  points  a  path  for  each  which  the  other  may  not 
tread  No,  dearest,  he  entertains  not  the  slightest  sus- 
picion, nor  shall  he  ever  hear  it  from  my  lips.  (Tom  starts, 
and frowns  with  increasing  fierceness.^  Duty  is  henceforth 
all  that  remains  to  me.  {Exit  Tom,  r.,  furiously.^  So, 
fare  thee  well,  my  love,  my  prince,  my  king  1 — a  long,  a 

long  farewell  1   There,  that  will  do,  Nat ;  we  got  along 

very  nicely,  don't  you  think  so?...  .....And,  Nat,  you  must 

be  very  careful  of  my  make-up  when  we  act  out  that  long 
{laughs)  that  long  farewell.  You  know  my  wig  is  fright- 
fully powdered,  and  if  you  get  any  on  your  black  velvet 
robe,  it  will  be  a  comedy  instead  of  a  tragedy,  I'm  afraid 

 Yes.     And,  oh,  Nat,  when  you  come  to-morrow 

night,  go  to  the  side  entrance  and  straight  up  to  the  ball- 
room and  stay  there.  Tom  will  be  here  at  seven,  and  he 
isn't  to  know  a  thing  about  it  till  the  very  moment  of  the 

performance, — you  won't  forget  ?  Yes        ....All  right. 

Good-bye. 

{Hangs  up  receiver.    Exit,  L.) 

{Enter  Dick  dragging  1\)M,  r.    Enter  Agnes,  l.,  who 
hides  wig  behind  her  on  seeing  Tom.) 

Dick.    Say,  old  man,  this  won't  do.    What  are  you 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


13 


sliding  out  for  like  this?    You  are  just  in  time  to  help  us 

with  

Agnes  {loudly).  Ahem  !  Why  Tom,  when  did  you 
get  back?    I'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you. 

{Frowns  at  Dick,  who  looks  puzzled^  then  suddenly  re- 
members.) 

Dick  {aside).  Suffering  Rachel!  I  nearly  gave  the 
whole  thing  away ! 

{Turns  away  and  begins  studying  from  book,  making 
gestures  from  time  to  time.) 

Tom  {abstractedly).    How  do  you  do,  Agnes? 

Agnes  {aside).  Poor  fellow  !  {Aloud.)  Come  and  sit 
over  here  and  tell  us  about  your  trip.  (Agnes  Dick 
pull  Tom  to  sofa  and  sit  down,  Tom  between  them.  Agnes 
animatedly.)  We've  all  missed  you  dreadfully,  Tom, 
especially  Nancy. 

Tom  {grimly).    Yes,  I  dare  say. 

{Puts  his  elbows  on  his  knees y  his  chin  in  his  hands,  star- 
ing at  carpet.) 

Agnes  {vivaciously).  Yes,  indeed ;  she  hasn't  been  the 
same  girl  since  you  left.  Do  you  know,  we  had  a  hay-ride 
last  week   (Dick  stares  at  her.    She  gasps,  then  con- 

tinues hurriedly?)    A  sleigh-ride,  I  mean,  of  course. 

Dick  {in  injured  tones).    I  didn't  hear  of  it ! 

Agnes  {aside  to  Dick).  Oh,  hush  !  {To  Tom.)  Yes, 
a  sleigh-ride,  and  Nancy  wouldn't  go  because  you  weren't 
there ! 

Dick  {starting  up).    I  call  all  the  inhabitants  of  this 

region  to  witness  that  we  haven't  had  snow  since  

{h.Gm.%  frowns  furiously  and  Dick  subsides  upon  sofa.) 

Agnes  {with  increased  animation).  And  then  the 
Weatherby's  dance,  and  Mrs.  Stone's  box  party,  and— a— 
and— a— -oh,  a  lot  more  that  was  going  on  (Dick  gives  it  up 
and  falls  to  studying)— ^d^wzy  wouldn't  go  anywhere  with- 
out you  1  {Triumphafttly.) 

{A  short  silence  ensues  ;  Agnes  taps  her  foot  impatiently  ; 
Tom  glares  absorbedly  at  carpet;  Dick  studies  and 
gestures.) 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


Dick  (muttering).    And  if  Fate  bring  thee  into  my  path, 

Lord  Huntington   (Agnes  pwches  Dick  behind  Tou,) 

Oh  !    (^Co7?i7nences  to  study  silently,) 

Agnes  (talking  very  fast),  I  saw  your  mother  yesterday, 
Tom ;  she  said  she  was  expecting  you  on  the  evening  train 
to-morrow  without  fail.  I  thought  she  was  looking  awfuU)/ 
well,  and  so  was  Evelyn, — Evelyn  was  with  her.  How  fast 
that  child  grows,  doesn  t  she  ? 

Tom  (absently),    I  beUeve  so. 

Dick  ( pulling  moustache  from  pocket  and  sticking  it  on 
his  lip).  Say,  Agnes,  do  you  really  think  this  makes  me 
look  ferocious  ? 

\  Gazes  mildly  at  audience,) 

Agnes  (rising).  There's  nothing  you  could  wear  that 
would  make  you  look  anything  but  the  stupid  you  are  1 

{Frowns,  and  Dick  hastily  pockets  moustache.  Enter 
Nancy,  l.) 

Nancy.  Tom  !  (Runs  toward  him  ;  he  stands  looking 
coldly  at  her ;  she  stops  and  holds  out  her  hands.)  Aren't 
you  glad  to  see  me?  (He  turns  slightly  aivayy  and  she 
gazes  at  him  in  bewilderment,  Agnes  pulls  Dick's  sleeve^ 
and  they  tiptoe  out,  l.  Nancy  clasps  her  hands,)  Oh, 
what  has  happened  ! 

Tom  (pacing  the  roo7n,  hands  i?i  pockets).  Nancy,  you 
should  have  been  more  open  with  me.  You  know  no  man 
is  going  to  hold  a  girl  to  her  word  when  he  finds  she  has 
changed  to  him. 

Nancy  (mystified).    Changed?  I? 

Tom.  Yes,  changed,  for  no  one  could  make  me  believe 
you  had  been  deceiving  me  all  along.  I  know  that  when  I 
went  away,  you  belonged  to  me,  and  (bitterly)  I  have  my 
good  friend  to  thank  for  this.  (Stops  before  her,)  It's 
hard  lines  on  a  fellow  when  his  best  friend  plays  him  such  a 
trick. 

(Absently  picks  up  book  fro?n  table,) 

Nancy.  But,  Tom,  I  haven't  the  least  idea  what  you  are 
talking  about. 

Tom.  Nancy,  don't  try  to  keep  that  up.  Honesty  is 
the  only  way  out  of  this.  I  supi)ose  you  wonder  how  I  have 
found  out  the  secret  you  are  so  kindly  hiding  from  me — out 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


15 


of  compassion  for  me,  I  suppose,  but,  unfortunately,  I  hap- 
pened to  enter  this  room  a  short  time  ago,  and  to  overhear 
a  conversation  over  the  telephone  which  can  bear  but  one 
interpretation. 

Nancy  (starting).  You  mean  when  I  was  talking  to 
Cousin  Nat  ? 

Tom.  It  wasn't  Nat  you  were  talking  to  when  I  came  in. 
I  distinctly  heard  you  say,  Harold,  you  and  I  must 
part,"  and  then  a  lot  about  honor. 

Nancy  {gasps).    Oh,  Tom  ! 

(Turns  to  audience,  shaking  with  suppressed  mirth.) 

Tom  (more  gently).  Don't  cry  about  it,  Nancy.  You 
see,  it's  no  use,  and  it  isn't  kindness,  either,  to  try  to  keep 
this  up  when  it  no  longer  means  anything  to  you.  I  hope 
I  can  take  what's  coming  to  me  like  a  man,  but  (he  savagely 
bangs  the  book  he  holds  on  the  table)  I  shall  have  something 
to  say  to  Mr.  Harold  McGrath  when  I  see  him  ! 

Nancy  {sinking  on  sofa).  Tom,  Tom,  what  a  dreadful 
mistake ! 

(Buries  her  head  in  cushions.) 

■  ToM.  A  mistake  that  was  found  out  in  time,  Nancy,  and 
there's  only  one  way  to  set  it  right.  If  it's  Harold  Mc- 
Grath you  care  for,  I  give  you  up  to  him  without  hesitation, 
for  I  cannot  share  your  love  with  any  one. 

Nancy  (suddenly  sitting  up  and  gazing ^  at  him  angrily). 
Tom  Travers,  I  think  you  are  the  most  disagreeable  man  I 
ever  knew  !  A  lovely  way  to  come  home  to  your  fiancee  ! 
(Chokes  back  a  sob.)  Wouldn't  speak  to  me,  though  you 
hadn't  seen  me  for  two  whole  weeks  (chokes  again),  then 
begin  to  accuse  me  of  having  changed ;  won't  let  me  say  a 
word  in  explanation  » 

Tom.    Explanation ! 

Nancy  (going  on  tumultuously  without  heeding  him). 
And  then  show  how  much  you  care  by  cheerfully  giving  me 
up  to  the  first  man  you  fancy  would  like  to  take  me  off  your 
hands.  (Rises  and  moves  toward  door.)  I  am  glad,  ]\Ir. 
Travers,  that  I  have  discovered  in  time  how  much  you  value 
me,  and  what  great  confidence  you  place  in  me ! 

{^Bursts  into  tears  and  exit,  l.  Tom  strides  gloomily  up 
and  down.  Telephone  bell  rings.  He  pays  no  heed ; 
continues  muttering  agitatedly.  After  repeated  rings,  he 
angrily  walks  to  telephone  and  takes  up  receiver.) 


i6 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


Tom  {in  uncompromising  tones).    Hello.  Yes,  this 

is  Forest  892  Oh,  indeed  !  (with  infinite  sarcasm)  so 

this  is  Harold,  is  it  ?  (Aside,)  And,  my  dear  Harold,  you 
are  caught  red-handed  this  time.  (Suddenly  breaking 
down.)  Oh,  to  think — Harold  McGrath,  of  all  people — 
and  Nancy — it's  too  much  !  {Aloud.)  Oh,  go  on,  Harold  ; 
shout  hello  till  you  burst  your  jugular  vein — I  wish  you 

would  1    Whom  did   you  say  you  want?  Nancy? 

Yes,  that's  right,  just  keep  on  incriminating  yourself  as  fast 
as  you  can.    It's  all  I  want !    And  what  about  that  path 

that  honor  bids  you  tread?  No,  this  isn't  Dick — no 

such  luck  as  that  for  you  Rehearsing?    Yes,  you 

might  call  it  rehearsing — I  hadn't  thought  of  that.  Of 
course ;  you  are  right ;  this  is  the  rehearsal,  and  (with  sud- 
den fierceness)  the  performance  will  take  place  just  as  soon 
as  I  can  get  down  to  the  other  end  of  this  telephone  wire, 

Mr.  Harold   McGrath, — do  you   understand?  Not 

Harold  McGrath  ?  Oh,  no ;  of  course  not !  There  are  so 
many  of  Miss  Blythe's  admirers  named  Harold,  that  this  is 

doubtless  one  of  the  numerous  others  Crazy  ?  Maybe ; 

but  not  as  crazy  as  the  man  that  will  take  the  risk  of  making 

love  to  another  man's  fiancee  over  the  telephone  Send 

some  one  else  to  the  'phone  ?  Not  on  your  life,  my  dear 
Harold, — not  on  your  precious  life,  which  (with  savageness) 
at  the  present  moment  wouldn't  be  worth  a  plugged  penny 
if  I  had  my  hands  on  you.  (Pauses.)  Hello  !  Hello ! 
{Hangs  up  the  receiver  viciously  and  turns  away.)  Just  as 
1  thought ;  a  coward  as  well  as  a  sneak. 

(Enter  Dick,  l.,  book  in  hand,  rehearsing  as  he  strides  up 
and  downy  trying  to  stick  moustache  on  his  lip.  He  is 
unconscious  of  Tom,  who  stands  near  telephone^  scowlifig 
fiercely.) 

Dick.  I  see  it  all  now.  She  is  as  basely  false  as  she  is 
divinely  fair,  "and  'tis  Harold,  curse  him  I  Harold  the 
hypocrite,  who  has  won  her  heart. 

Tom  (thunderstruck).    What ! 

Dick  (continuing).  Others  have  thought  her  love  was 
theirs,  but  'twas  mine,  I  swear,  until  this  smooth  dissembler 
crossed  my  path. 

Tom  (wildly).  Is  there  no  end  to  her  deception  !  Now 
it  is  Dick  who  

(Dick  notices  him  for  the  first  time  and  stares  abstractedly.) 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


Dick.    Oh,  you  here  ? 

Tom  {with  forced  calmness).  Yes,  Fm  here,  Mr.  Dick 
Dunder.  {He  pauses  a7id glares  steadfastly  at  T>\q,y^.')  I'm 
here,  and  you're  there  ;  but  {with  sudden  exasperation^  in 
about  one-sixteenth  of  a  minute  I'm  going  to  move  from 

here  to  there,  and  then   {Strides  toward  Dick,  who  runs 

behind  chair  in  alarm.  1  cm  follows  and  Dick  dodges  be- 
hind table.  After  a  few  minutes  of  the  pursuit^  Dick  bolts 
through  doory  r.,  and  Tom  drops  upon  sofa  and  rocks  to  and 
fro  in  wrath.)  Could  that  have  been  a  lock  of  her  hair  he 
was  waving  about  I    I  swear  I  saw  him  put  it  to  his  lips  ! 

{Enter  Miss  Cavendish,  l.) 

Miss  Cavendish.  Why,  how  do  you  do,  Tom?  I'm 
glad  to  see  you.  {Shakes  hands.  Telephone  bell  rings. 
Miss  Cavendish  goes  to  answer  it  and  Tom  starts  to  leave 
the  room.)    Wait  a  minute,  Tom,  I  want  to  talk  to  you. 

{Turns  to  telephone  and  takes  receiver.)    Well  ?  Yes, 

this  is  Mr.  Blythe's  residence.    (Tom  listens  intently)  

Is  that  you,  Nat  ?  (Tom  loses  interest  and  paces  up  and 
downy  head  bent  and  hands  in  pockets.)    You  want  to  find 

out  what  ?  Who  answered  the  telephone  a  while  ago  ? 

Why,  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.    It  might  have  been  almost 

anybody  What!  a  crazy  man,  you  say?  ....Oh, 

my  dear  nephew,  you  are  joking,  aren't  you  ?  Some- 
body very  angry  about — that  must  have  been  Dick  Dunder ; 
it  sounds  like  him.  He  goes  around  all  the  time  spouting 
nonsense, — this  foolish  business  the  girls  are  getting  up  you 

know  Yes,  I  forgot,  you  are  in  it; — something  I  can 

hardly  understand  in  a  sensible  man  like  you  either  

Well,  depend  upon  it,  Nat,  it's  just  some  of  Mr.  Dunder's 
nonsense.  I'm  sorry  about  your  cold.  Nancy  tells  me  we 
shall  see  you  to-morrow  Well,  all  right,  good-bye. 

{Hangs  up  receiver.) 

Tom  (who  has  been  waiting  impatiently).  Miss  Caven- 
dish ! 

Miss  Cavendish.  What  is  it,  Tom  ?  Come  and  sit 
down,  I  want  to  ask  you  how  your  mother  is,  and  

Tom  {stopping  her  with  a  gesture).  Miss  Cavendish,  I 
should  like  to  ask  you  what  has  been  going  on  in  my  ab- 
sence. 

Miss  Cavendish  {puzzled).    In  your  absence? — here? 


THE  DRESS  REHEAkSAL 


Well,  things  have  been  going  on  pretty  much  as  usual,  al- 
though   

Tom.    What  I  really  want  to  know  is,  what  is  all  this 
between  Nancy  and — Harold  ?  {Hesitates,) 

Miss  Cavendish  {smiling  indulgently).  Why,  you  know, 
—surely  some  one  has  told  you  by  this  time — you  see, 

Harold  is  Nancy's  lover,  and   {Telephone  bell  rings, 

Tom  leans  dejectedly  on  mantelpiece,  gating  into  fire.  Miss 
Cavendish  goes  to  telephone,)    Oh,  dear,  this  bell  is  never  » 
silent  for  five  minutes  together.    {Takes  receiver,)  Well? 

 Mr.  Blythe's  residence  Oh,  yes;  it  came  a 

little  while  ago  It  is?    Well,  I  will  tell  my  niece 

 Very  well.  Good-bye. 

{Hangs  up  receiver ^  bustles  out.) 

Tom  {trying  to  stop  her).    Wait  a  minute.  Miss  Caven- 
dish ! 

Miss  Cavendish  {from  doorway).    FU  be  back  in  just 
a  moment ;  I  have  an  important  message  for  Nancy. 

{Exit,  R.    Enter  Agnes,  l.,  studying  from  book.) 

Agnes  {looking  up).  Oh,  you  here,  Tom  ? 
Tom.    Yes,  but  I'm  on  the  point  of  leaving. 

{Starts  toward  door.) 
Agnes  {looking  troubled  and  stretching  out  Jur  hand). 
But,  Tom ! 

(Tom  turns  suddenly  and  notes  her  agitated  manner.) 

Tom.    You  know,  then  ? 
Agnes  {hesitatingly).  About? 

Tom  {sorrowfully).  About  Dick  and   {Hesi- 
tates.) 

Agnes.    And  whom? 

Tom.  Can  it  be  that  you  don't  know  that  it  is  Nancy 
who  

Agnes  {bewildered).  Nancy!  What  do  you  mean, 
Tom  ? 

Tom  {cofning  back  to  centre).  Why,  I  thought  you 
knew,  or  I  shouldn't  have  mentioned  it.  Dick  and  Nancy 
are — well,  it  seems  that  while  1  have  been  gone,  Nancy  has 
been  receiving  attentions  and  {angrily)  serious  ones,  too, 
not  only  from  Dick,  but  


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


19 


Agnes  {interrupting  hifii).  From  Dick!  But,  Tom, 
that's  absurd. 

Tom  (seriously).  The  proof,  Agnes,  came  from  Dick's 
own  lips.  I  was  sitting  here  a  few  minutes  ago,  trying  to 
gather  myself  together  after  the  shock  of  learning  Nancy's 
first  defection,  when  in  comes  Dick,  head  bent,  a  book  of 
poetry  in  one  hand,  and  a  lock  of  Nancy's  hair  in  the  other, 
and  

Agnes.    Good  gracious  ! 

Tom.  It  passes  my  belief  that  my  absence  of  two  weeks 
can  have  brought  about  such  changes  in  every  one  I  most 
trusted. 

Agnes.  Tom,  I  know  you  are  mistaken.  How  could  it 
be  ?  What  did  he  say  that  you  could  construe  in  such  a 
way? 

Tom.    Well,  he  said   But  here  comes  Dick  now  ! 

{sternly)  we  wiU  let  him  speak  for  himself. 

{Enter  Dick,  rehearsing;  so  absorbed  that  he  fails  to  notice 
Tom  and  Agnes.) 

Dick.  I  see  it  all  now.  She  is  as  basely  false  as  she  is 
divinely  fair,  and  'tis  Harold,  curse  him !  Harold  the 
hypocrite,  who  has  won  her  heart ! 

Tom.    There,  poor  girl,  you  have  heard  it  for  yourself. 

(Dick  looks  up  startled,    Agnes  bursts  out  laughing,) 

Agnes.  Oh,  Tom,  Tom !  what  a  comedy  of  errors. 
Dick,  what  do  you  suppose  ?  We  have  all  been  rehearsing 
our  parts  so  realistically  and  so  well  that  Tom  has  taken  it 
^11  in  tragic  earnest ;  and  Nancy  is  very  nearly  in  reality 
the  heart-broken  heroine  she  has  been  representing. 

Dick  {ruefully).  And  I've  very  nearly  been  the  back- 
broken  villain  I've  not  been  representing.  What's  it  all 
about,  anyway? 

Agnes.  Tom,  it's  all  been  a  ridiculous  mistake.  I  saw 
your  face  as  you  listened  to  Nancy  at  the  telephone,  and  I 
wanted  to  explain  right  away,  but  Nancy  forbade  it. 

Tom.    Explain  !    How  could  such  a  thing  be  explained  ! 

Agnes.  There  !  I  don't  wonder  at  Nancy's  resentment. 
You  might  trust  her  a  little.  Can't  you  see  that  we  are  all 
rehearsing  a  play  ? 

ToM  {skeptically).    Over  the  telephone  ? 

Agnes   {eagerly).    Yes  \   our  leading  man,  Mr.  Nat 


20 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


Cavendish,  couldn^t  come,  and  he  and  Nancy  were  going 
over  their  parts  by  wire  just  as  you  came  in. 

Tom  {doggedly),  Agnes,  it  was  Harold  McGrath  at  the 
other  end  of  that  wire  ! 

Dick  (exploding).  Ha,  ha  !  that's  one  on  you,  old  man. 
Harold  McGrath  nothing  1  That  was  Sir  Harold  Hunting- 
ton, the  hero  of  our  play,  a  part  most  ably  undertaken  by 
Nancy's  innocent  and  unoffending  Cousin  Nat.  Harold 
McGrath  !    Gee,  that's  a  good  one  !    (Slaps  his  knee,) 

(Tom  stares,  still  a  little  bewildered.) 

Agnes.    Tom,  don't  you  see?    It's  all  a  play ! 

Dick.  Yes,  p-l-a-y,  play,  circus,  show,~anything ;  and 
(hastily  donning  moustache,  and  striding  tragically  across 
the  room),  !  am  the  deep  and  dastardly  villain  who  (re- 
verting to  book)  never  knows  his  lines  ! 

(Tom,  gradually  becoming  enlightened,  gazes  from  one  ti 
the  other,  and  finally  sinks,  relieved,  upon  the  sofa,) 

Tom  (.faintly).    Oh,  what  an  ass  I've  been  ! 
Dick  (^pulling  off  his  moustache).    Exactly,  old  man, 
exactly  ;  so  you  have. 

{Enter  Nancy,  l.,  wiping  her  eyes^  while  she  studies  half- 
heartedly from  book.) 

Nancy  (dispiritedly^  in  a  weak  monotone).  Alas,  deaf 
Harold!  The  time  has  come  when  our  two  knitted 
souls  

(Suddenly  becomes  conscious  of  the  presence  of  the  others, 
and  dabs  at  her  eyes,  retreating  toward  door.  Agnes 
rushes  to  her  and  embraces  her.) 

Agnes.  Oh,  my  dear,  my  poor  dear,  it's  all  right  now. 
I  just  had  to  tell  him. 

Nancy  {without  interest,  and  looking  from  one  to  the 
other).    Oh,  he  knows,  does  he? 

Tom  (^coming  to  her,  and  trying  to  take  her  hand). 
Nancy,  won't  you  try  to  forgive  me? 

Agnes  (impulsively).    Oh,  do  forgive  him,  Nancy. 

Dick  (earnestly).    Yes,  do  forgive  him,  Nancy. 

Agnes  (leading  Dick  aside),    'Sh,  you'll  spoil  it  all  I 


THE  DRESS  REHEARSAL 


21 


(Nancy  and  Tom  retire  toward  fireplace^  talking  in  low 
tones,  Tom  very  earnestly  and  with  gestures,  Nancy 
shakes  head  in  negative  at  first  but  finally  gives  him  her 
hand  and  apparently  surrenders, ) 

{Enter  Miss  Cavendish.) 

Miss  Cavendish.  Well,  are  all  you  young  people  in 
here  ?  I  thought  you  would  be  up-stairs  having  your  dress 
rehearsal. 

Agnes  {smiling).  We  had  almost  forgotten  about  the 
dress  rehearsal. 

{Telephone-bell  rings.  Enter  Lucy,  who  goes  to  'phone 
and  stands  there  until  curtain,  trying,  in  pantomime^  to 
communicate  with  some  one,) 

Dick.    Yes,  how  about  that  rehearsal,  Nancy? 

Nancy  {coming  forward  shyly).  I  guess  it  is  about  time 
we  were  having  \\. 

Agnes  {mischievously).  But  who  will  take  the  part  o£ 
Harold  Huntington  ? 

Tom  {grinning  sheepishly).    Suppose  you  try  me  I 


CURTAIK 


Unusually  Good  Entertainments 

Read  One  or  More  of  These  Before  Deciding  on 
Your  Next  Program 

GRADUATION  DAY  AT  WOOD  HILL  SCHOOL. 

An  Entertainment  in  Two  Acts,  by  Ward  Macauley.  For  six 
males  and  four  females,  with  several  minor  parts.  ^  Time  of 
playing,  two  hours.  Modern  costumes.  Simple  interior  sccnet; 
may  be  presented  in  a  hall  without  scenery.  The  unusual  com- 
|»ination  of  a  real  "entertainment,"  including  music,  recitations, 
.etc.,  with  an  interesting  love  story.  The  graduation  exerciser 
-include  short  speeches,  recitations,  songs,  funny  interruption^ 
^and  a  comical  speech  by  a  country  school  trustee.  Price,  15 
cents. 

EXAMINATION  DAY  AT  WOOD  HILL  SCHOOZn 

An  Entertainment  in  One  Act,  by  Ward  Macauley.  Eight  mal« 
and  six  female  characters,  with  minor  parts.  Plays  one  hour. 
Scene,  an  easy  interior,  or  may  be  given  without  scenery.  Cos- 
tumes, modern.  Miss  Marks,  the  teacher,  refuses  to  marry  a 
trustee,  who  threatens  to  discharge  her.  The  examination  in- 
cludes recitations  and  songs,  and  brings  out  many  funny  answers 
to  questions.  At  the  close  Robert  Coleman,  an  old  lover,  claims 
the  teacher.    Very  easy  and  very  effective.    Price,  15  cents. 

BACK  TO  THE  COUNTRY  STORE.  A  Rural  Enter- 
tainment in  Three  Acts,  by  Ward  Macauley.  For  four  male 
and  five  female  characters,  with  some  supers.  Time,  two  hours. 
Two  scenes,  both  easy  interiors.  Can  be  played  effectively  with- 
out scenery.  Costumes,  modern.  All  the  principal  parts  are 
sure  hits.  Quigley  Higginbotham,  known  as  "Quig,"  a  clerk  in 
a  country  store,  aspires  to  be  a  great  author  or  singer  ^  and 
decides  to  try  his  fortunes  in  New  York.  The  last  scene  is  in 
Quig's  home.  He  returns  a  failure  but  is  offered  a  partnership 
in  the  country  store.  He  pops  the  question  in  the  midst  of  a 
surprise  party  given  in  his  honor.  Easy  to  do  and  very  funny. 
Price,  15  cents, 

THE  DISTRICT  CONVENTION.  A  Farcical  Sketch 
in  One  Act,  by  Frank  Dumont.  For  eleven  males  and  one 
female,  or  twelve  males.  Any  number  of  other  parts  or  super- 
numeraries may  be  added.  Plays  forty-five  minutes.  No  special; 
scenery  is  required,  and  the  costumes  and  properties^  are  all/ 
easy.  The  play  shows  an  uproarious  political  nominating  con- 
vention. The  climax  comes  when  a  woman's  rights  cham« 
pion,  captures  the  convention.  There  is  a  great  chance  to  bur- 
lesque modern  politics  and  to  work  in  local  gags.  Every 
part  will  make  a  hit.    Price,  IS  cents. 

SI  SLOCUM'S  COUNTRY  STORE.  An  Entertainment 
in  One  Act,  by  Frank  Dumont.  Eleven  male  and  five  female 
characters  with  supernumeraries.  Several  parts  may  be  doubled. 
Plays  one  hour.  Interior  scene,  or  ma}^  be  played  without  set 
scenery.  Costumes,  modern.  The  rehearsal  for  an  entertain- 
ment in  the  village  church  gives  plenty  of  opportunity  for 
specialty  work.  A  very  jolly  entertainment  of  the  sort  adapted 
to  almost  any  place  or  occasion.    Price,  15  cents. 

THE  PENN  PUBUSHING  COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 


Unusually  Good  Entertainments 

Read  One  or  More  of  These  Before  Deciding  on 
Your  Next  Program 

A  SURPRISE  PARTY  AT  BBIHKLEY'S.  An  En- 
tertainment  in  Oae  Scene,  by  Ward  Macauley.  Seven  male  and 
seven  female  characters.  Interior  scene,  or  may  be  given  with- 
out scenery.  Costumes,  modern.  Time,  one  hour.  By  the 
Euthor  of  the  popular  successes,  "Graduation  Day  at  Wood  Hill 
School,"  ''Back  to  the  Country  Store,"  etc.  The  villagers  have 
planned  a  birthday  surprise  party  for  Mary  Brinkley,  recently 
graduated  from  college.  They  all  join  in  jolly  games,  songs^ 
conundrums,  etc.,  and  Mary  becomes  engaged,  which  surprises 
the  surprisers.  The  entertainment  is  a  sure  success.  Price,  15  cents, 

JONES  VS.  JINKS.  A  Mock  Trial  in  One  Act,  by 
Edward  Mumford.  Fifteen  male  and  six  female  characters,  with 
supernumeraries  if  desired.  May  be  played  all  male.  Many  of  the 
parts  (members  of  the  jury,  etc.)  are  small.  Scene,  a  simple 
interior;  may  be  played  without  scenery.  Costumes,  modern. 
Time  of  playing,  one  hour.  This  mock  trial  has  many  novel 
features,  unusual  characters  and  quick  action.  Nearly  every 
character  has  a  funny  entrance  and  laughable  lines.  There  are 
many  rich  parts,  and  fast  fun  throughout.    Price,  15  cents. 

THE  SIGHT-SEEING  CAR.  A  Comedy  Sketch  in  One 
Act,  by  Ernest  M.  Gould.  For  seven  males,  two  females,  or 
may  be  all  male.  Parts  m.ay  be  doubled,  with  quick  changes,  so 
that  four  persons  may  play  the  sketch.  Time,  forty-five  minutes. 
Simple  street  scene.  Costumes,  modern.  The  superintendent 
of  a  sight-seeing  automobile  engages  two  men  to  run  the 
machine.  A  Jew,  a  farmer,  a  fat  lady  and  other  humorous 
characters  give  them  all  kinds  of  trouble.  This  is  a  regular  g^t- 
ling-gun  stream  of  rollicking  repartee.    Price,  15  cents. 

THE  CASE  OF  SMYTHE  VS.  SMI'TH.  An  Original 
Mock  Trial  in  One  Act,  by  Frank  Dumont.  Eighteen  males 
and  two  females,  or  may  be  all  male.  Plays  about  one  hour. 
Scene,  a  county  courtroom  ;  requires  no  scenery  ;  may  be  played 
in  an  ordinary  hall.  Costumes,  modern.  This  entertainment  is 
nearly  perfect  of  its  kind,  and  a  sure  success.  It  can  be  easily 
produced  in  any  place  or  on  any  occasion,  and  provides  almost 
Hny  number  of  good  parts.    Price,  15  cents. 

THE  OLD  MAIDS'  ASSOCIATION.  A  Farcical  Enter- 
tainment  in  One  Act,  by  Louise  Latham  Wilson.  For  thirteen 
females  and  one  male.  The  male  part  may  be  played  by  a 
female,  and  the  number  of  characters  increased  to  twenty  or 
more.  Time,  forty  minutes.  The  play  requires  neither  sceneryj 
nor  properties,  and  very  little  in  the  way  of  costumes.  Can, 
easily  be  prepared  in  one  or  two  rehearsals.    Price,  25  cents. 

'       BARGAIN  DAY  AT  BLOOMSTEIN'S.     A  Farcical 

Entertainment  in  One  Act,  by  Edward  Mumford.  For  five  males 
and  ten  females,  with  supers.  Interior  scene.  Costumes,  mod- 
ern. Time,  thirty  minutes.  The  characters  and  the  situations 
which  arise  from  their  endeavors  to  bny  and  sell  make  rapid-fire 
fun  from  start  to  finish.    Price,  15  cents. 

THE  PENN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 


Successful  Plays  for  All  Girls 

In  Selecting  Your  Next  Play  Do  Not  Overlook  This  List 

YOUNG  DOCTOR  DEVINE.  A  Farce  in  Two  Acts, 
by  Mrs.  E.  J.  H.  Goodfellow.  One  of  the  most  popular 
plays  for  girls.  For  nine  female  characters.  Time  in 
playing,  thirty  minutes.  Scenery,  ordinary  interior.  Mod- 
ern costumes.  Girls  in  a  boarding-school,  learning  that  a 
young  doctor  is  coming  to  vaccinate  all  the  pupils,  eagerly  con- 
sult each  other  as  to  the  manner  of  fascinating  the  physician. 
When  the  doctor  appears  upon  the  scene  the  pupils  discover  that 
the  physician  is  a  female  practitioner.    Price,  15  cents. 

SISTER  MASONS.  A  Burlesque  in  One  Act,  by  Fr^wn-k 
DuMONT.  For  eleven  females.  Time,  thirty  minutes.  Costumes, 
fantastic  gowns,  or  dominoes.  Scene,  interior.  A  grand  expose 
of  Masonry.  Some  women  profess  to  learn  the  secrets  of  a 
Masonic  lodge  by  hearing  their  husbands  talk  in  their  sleep, 
and  they  institute  a  similar  organization.    Price,  15  cents. 

A  COMMANDING  POSITION.  A  Farcical  Enter- 
tainment, by  Amelia  Sanford.  For  seven  female  char- 
acters and  ten  or  more  other  ladies  and  children.  Time,  one 
hour.  Costumes,  modern.  Scenes,  easy  interiors  and  one  street 
scene.  Marian  Young  gets  tired  living  with  her  aunt,  Miss 
Skinflint.  She  decides  to  "attain  a  commanding  position." 
Marian  tries  hospital  nursing,  college  settlement  work  and 
school  teaching,  but  decides  to  go  back  to  housework.  Price,  Id 
cents. 

HOW  A  WOMAN  KEEPS  A  SECRET.  A  Comedy 
in"  One  Act,  by  Frank  Dumont,  For  ten  female  characters. 
Time,  half  an  hour.  Scene,  an  easy  interior.  Costumes,  modern. 
Mabel  Sweetly  has  just  become  engaged  to  Harold,  but  it's  "the 
deepest  kind  of  a  secret."  Before  announcing  it  they  must  win 
the  approval  of  Harold's  uncle,  now  in  Europe,  or  lose  a  possible 
ten  thousand  a  year.  At  a  tea  Mabel  meets  her  dearest  friend. 
Maude  sees  Mabel  has  a  secret,  she  coaxes  and  Mabel  tells  her. 
But  Maude  lets  out  the  secret  in  a  few  minutes  to  another 
friend  and  so  the  secret  travels.    Price,  15  cents. 

THE  OXFORD  AFFAIR.  A  Comedy  in  Three  Acts, 
by  Josephine  H.  Cobb  and  Jennie  E.  Paine.  For  eight  female 
characters.  Plays  one  hour  and  three-quarters.  Scenes,  inter- 
iors at  a  seaside  hotel.  Costumes,  modern.  The  action  of  the 
play  is  located  at  a  summer  resort.  Alice  Graham,  in  order  to 
chaperon  herself,  poses  as  a  widow,  and  Miss  Oxford  first  claims 
her  as  a  sister-in-law,  then  denounces  her.  The  onerous  duties 
of  Miss  Oxford,  who  attempts  to  serve  as  chaperon  to  Miss 
Howe  and  Miss  Ashton  in  the  face  of  many  obstacles,  furnish 
an  evening  of  rare  enjoyment.    Price  15  cents. 

THE  PENN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 


The  Power  of  Expression 

Expression  and  efficiency  go  hand  in  hand. 

The  power  of  clear  and  forceful  expression  brings  confi- 
dence and  poise  at  all  times — in  private  gatherings,  in  public 
discussion,  in  society,  in  business. 

It  is  an  invaluable  asset  to  any  man  or  woman.  It  can  often 
be  turned  into  money,  but  it  is  always  a  real  joy. 

In  learning  to  express  thought,  we  learn  to  command 
thought  itself,  and  thought  is  power.  You  can  have  this 
power  if  you  will. 

Whoever  has  the  power  of  clear  expression  is  always  sure 
of  himself. 

The  power  of  expression  leads  to: 

The  ability  to  think  "on  your  f  eef 

Successful  public  speaking 

Effective  recitals 

The  mastery  over  other  minds 

Social  prominence 

Business  success 

Efficiency  in  any  undertaking 

Are  these  things  worth  while? 

They  are  all  successfully  taught  at  The  National  School  of 
Elocution  and  Oratory,  which  during  many  years  has  de- 
veloped this  power  in  hundreds  of  men  and  women. 

A  catalogue  giving  full  information  as  to  how  any  of  these 
accomplishments  may  be  attained  will  be  sent  free  on  request 

THE  NATIONAL  SCHOOL  OF 
ELOCUTION  AND  ORATORY 

17 14  De  Lancey  Street  Philadelphia 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 


3  0112  041565430 


